


Dancing on Silver Blades

by HollowHearted



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Championships, F/F, M/M, Multi, figure skating, forget the rules of skating, newt and thomas are endgame, pair skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowHearted/pseuds/HollowHearted
Summary: Newt's in love with Thomas, his best friend and successful pair skater. When Teresa breaks her ankle, Newt decides to take her place. ;)





	Dancing on Silver Blades

Being Tommy’s friend meant a lot of skating. Or watching him skate, solo or with his girlfriend/pair skating partner, Teresa. That’s what happens when you’re best friends with a competitive skater. And that was fine. I liked skating as much as he did, and I was good, I just never went into competition. My parents couldn’t afford for me to, and then it felt like I didn’t have enough of a competitive background to start at my age. 

Tommy used to teach me his routines so we could practice together, but as he got into bigger and bigger competitions and there was so much stress on him, he stopped using that time for us to have fun. Now I just watched. Not that I minded; there was something compelling about Tommy’s routines. 

Today I was gliding along toward the edge of the rink while he practiced his triple axels. He’d been going through his routine and hung up on this after landing a double when he should’ve had a triple. 

“How many that time?” he called, probably just to make me feel included. He was too good a skater not to already know.

“Still two. You aren’t crossing your feet fast enough, I think.”

He frowned, nodding thoughtfully. He stepped through it again, and then picked up at some point in one of his routines, a little before the jump. He stumbled a little when he landed, and my heart stopped for a second. Please don’t fall, please don’t fall. 

“Tommy? You okay? God, you didn’t hurt your ankle, did you?” I asked hurriedly, squeezing his shoulder entirely too tightly. “Please be okay.”

He groaned angrily. “I’m fine! But if I can’t figure this out we’re going not going to win the next competition.”

I bit my lip. “Look, why don’t you take a break? Just come skate for a bit. You’re probably just overthinking. You’ve done a triple before.”

He shook his head, standing to glare at me. “Don’t you understand? If we lose, that’s it. We don’t go on to nationals, or world. We lose. We have to wait and start all over again.”

I was hurt. Of course I understood that. I pulled my scarf tighter. 

“I’m just trying to help,” I murmured. “Sorry.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I know. I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just…it’s hard to practice pair skating when your partner is always at work when you’re free, and I don’t know how we’re going to win. At least she practices with Winston when she can’t with me.” He looked pained. “I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

I laughed. “Shut up, you’ll kill it. Just like always.”

“Not if Teresa and I can’t practice. If she’s used to Winston’s technique, she won’t work with me as well anymore.”

“I know. We’ll figure it out, though, don’t worry. Come on and race me a couple laps; it’ll clear your head.”

He sighed and followed me to the edge of the rink. “Ready.”

“Steady.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go.”

   

The nice thing about having started out as a hockey skater was that I knew how to get going from a standstill. I got a head start and held my ground.

   

Tommy started to lighten up as we rounded the end of the rink, skates ripping neat lines in the ice. And then he started gaining. It only took a moment for us to be neck and neck, crossover for crossover at the other end. 

I smiled to myself. It had been a long time since Tommy and I were in sync, on ice or off. I smiled even wider when he switched to backward at one lap, like we used to. I switched a second later, looking over my shoulder so I wouldn’t run into anything. 

I regained my lead and held it, but not by much. Tommy was a strong skater. I gracefully waved at an imaginary crowd as I just barely beat him. Tommy snorted.

“Good job,” he said.

I grinned. “Thanks. Now go land me a triple axel.” He nodded and started off. “Don’t overthink it,” I called after him.

I crossed my fingers behind my back, whispering, “Please let him do it. Please.”

He did, and was so startled he just stopped, forgetting the rest of his routine. I restrained the urge to skate over and hug him, settling for punching the air.

“Yes! Nationals, here he comes!”

   

He laughed. “You get so excited over me winning competitions.”

“I can’t help being forced to live through you.”

_I can’t help it if I’m in love with you and want you to fulfill your dreams._

He looked sad. “You could always start competing.”

“And where am I going to find a partner? You don’t just pick someone. You and Teresa have been skating together since you were twelve. You’ve got chemistry, you know what each other can do. I don’t have that with anyone.”

_Except you._

He shrugged. “You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t start somewhere.”

“I doubt I’d find anyone my type.”

_Which is guys. Particularly you._

He laughed. “You could always do singles division.”

I shook my head. “I’m happy the way things are.”

_Except that you and I aren’t together and you’re constantly miserable._

“Suit yourself. Could you start my music over again?”

“Sure thing,” I said, hurriedly extricating myself from the situation before I said something I shouldn’t.

   

Tommy nailed the routine. I was transfixed, as always. He went into another headspace when he wasn’t stressed over hypothetical failure. There was something powerful and endlessly beautiful about it. He always made it look easy, yet somehow, at the same time, he made it look like something only he could do.

This time I did hug him, even if I’d regret it later. I couldn’t help it. It’s hard to fight these urges after years have gone by. 

The next time we met to skate, Teresa was meant to be there. I skipped down the steps, watching the zamboni. Teresa was nowhere to be seen and Tommy was angrily lacing his skates. 

“You okay?” 

“No, I’m not okay! She can’t make it. Again. And she’s blaming me for not accomodating her schedule. Damn it!” 

He threw his soaker to the floor and held his head in his hands. I sat beside him and lay a timid hand on his shoulder. 

“If we lose, she’ll blame me, and that’ll be the end of it. She’ll break up with me and I’ll be out a partner.”

“She wouldn’t do that to you,” I said comfortingly.

He looked up at me. “That’s what she said when she called.”

Oh no. This wasn’t good. 

“Teach me the routine,” I said. “We can practice together.”

He shook his head. “I need a _partner_ , Newt. I know my part, but how am I supposed to get us gold if I can’t fling her around beforehand?”

“Where’s your routine paper? You always have one.”

He jerked his thumb at his binder. I flipped through it until I found the right routine. I wrote out a copy for myself, just in case.

“Look, just pretend she’s there, okay? You’ve been doing all your solo stuff, but you need to just imagine she’s there. I know it’ll feel weird, but it should help.”

He nodded. “Okay.” 

He went through it a few times, extending his hands to imaginary Teresa, throwing imaginary Teresa, lifting imaginary Teresa. Always Teresa. 

He seemed calmer when we left and went to dinner. I nudged his shoulder as we walked. 

“It’ll work out,” I said. “I’ll talk to her.”

He nodded, sighing. “I hope it does.”

I called her, as promised, and chewed her out, telling her she had better get her bloody act together if she wanted to win. 

I practiced my own skating during public sessions. I had small fanbase of teenage girls, who would whisper to each other after I landed a jump or did a spin they thought was complicated. It was bloody annoying. 

I started practicing triple axels, noting all the things I got wrong. If Tommy needed more help, I’d be all too happy to, and now I might actually be helpful.

I went to see Tommy as he got off work one afternoon. I needed to check on him. He hadn’t been in touch, and Teresa was being more of a pain than usual. I didn’t want him to stress, and I knew he would be stressing.

He was stressing. There were dark circles under his eyez and he hadn’t even bothered styling his hair. I sighed, leaning against the counter. He did, too, muscles stretching his t-shirt to the max. Tommy was undeniably strong, had to be to lift and throw Teresa. 

“Hey, Newt.” he said wearily. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Surprise me.” I offered a small smile. 

He didn’t return it, but starting making me a cup of tea. He’d started working here because he knew it was one of my favorite places. He’d said that with him working there, we’d be able to spend more time together off ice. That was the closest thing to a romantic gesture he’d ever done. He and Teresa had one of those relationships that was more like frenemies with benefits. 

But she could skate, and they had a strong magic on the ice. It was breathtaking.

I forced Tommy to get himself a cup, too, and come walk with me. He looked exhausted.

“When’s the last time you slept?” I asked.

“Last night.”

“For how long?”

“Three hours.”

I sighed. “Tommy, you’ve got to sleep. I’ve practically threatened Teresa, so she’ll be there Friday, okay? Relax.”

He turned and hugged me, tighter than he ever had before. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just held him back, letting him tuck my head into the crook of his neck. It was at least a minute before he let me go. He’d relaxed completely and looked calmer than he had in weeks. He gave me a little smile.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine,” he said, mostly to convince himself. It almost semed to work.

When competition day came, I chewed my lip worriedly. Teresa and Tommy had practiced three times since that day, and each time had been a bloody wreck. Teresa had basically screamed at him, blaming him for her bad landings and stumbling. I’d stepped in and yelled at her for forgetting how to skate in a month. Tommy had looked impressed. 

He appeared at my side, frowning deeply. He was even taller with his skates on. As if I wasn’t short enough already. I’d had some rough and tumble rivals of Tommy laughingly suggest I start pair skating the girl’s part.

“He’s sure little enough,” they’d say. “Probably easier to lift than some girls I’ve skated with.”

I just ignored them. Well, publically. Secretly I wished I could skate with Tommy, and the confirmation of my size being about right encouraged me. Until I scolded myself, reminded that Tommy and Teresa were the pair and always would be. I never stood a chance with him.

Tommy was fretting. I didn’t know what to say. He looked great? He skated superbly? It wasn’t his fault if Teresa messed up? All true, but somehow not the right thing to say right now. Teresa finally showed up, flustered. I didn’t give her a proper greeting, really, just spat,

“Get bloody focused.”

She glared at me, but her features smoothed gradually into focused determination, and she started stretching. 

“Tom, let’s try that throw one more time.”

They got to work in the practice rink while I tried not to worry. If they didn’t make it to nationals, I didn’t think Tommy would ever be the same. He lived and breathed skating. He’d been working toward nationals for so long. If it was snatched away from him for such a bloody stupid reason as Teresa not having practiced, it would hurt him deeply.

I started chewing my nails as the competition went on. The other pairs were good. Really good, and all the scores were high. Tommy and Teresa would have to be fantastic to win. If it was any other competition, they wouldn’t have a problem, but with the lack of practice, I worried.

When they were one pair away from their turn, I went to find them. They were fighting. 

“Knock it off, Teresa!” I snapped. “You have one more go, and that’s on that rink, in front of the judges. If you mess it up, it’s your fault. I called you, I texted you, I told you to rearrange your schedule. Tommy did everything he could, and then you wouldn’t show. If you lose, it’ll be your bloody fault. So you get out there, and if you fall over, you get back up and nail the rest of it.”

She stormed off. Tommy sighed. 

“We’re not going to make it.”

I hugged him. I just couldn’t help it. I hugged him tight and didn’t let go for much too long. He started to relax, tightening his arms around me. If only this meant something. I pulled back.

 

“Look, Tommy, I know it’s not all that helpful, but you’ll be fine, okay? Just go with it. Improvise if something goes wrong, like you did in Tulsa that time. Pick her back up and make her keep going.”

He nodded emptily. 

“Look at me,” I demanded forcefully. He did, startled. “Remember that, okay? Silver isn’t the end of the world, or bronze. You _know_ this routine. You’ve been working on it forever. I’ve watched you. If something does happen, it’ll be on her, and if she’s going to throw a hissy fit over her failings, she doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Newt.”

I nodded, looking down and away. I shouldn’t’ve thrown that last bit in.

I was a mess of nerves when they went on the ice and started getting funny looks. Spectators usually thought I was their coach, since I was always with them and bossed them around all the time. But I was just a friend. That seemed to be my lot in life. They didn’t have a coach. They, or rather Tommy, came up with their routines and they usually nailed them. I offered pointers and criticism from the sidelines. I was the closest they had to a coach, I supposed. I helped them when they got hung up, learned the technical details of a thousand different moves for the sole purpose of giving them advice if they had difficulty.

Maybe Teresa wouldn’t be such an issue if they had a proper coach to get on to her.

Tommy whispered something to her before their music started. She looked angry, but he cut her off urgently, and then the routine started. I crossed the fingers of both hands.

“Please, please, please,” I muttered. 

It was a sad routine, achingly beautiful. So far so good. Teresa hadn’t messed up yet. Tommy was amazing, restrained power radiating off him. The synchronized spins, yes, the lunges and achingly beautiful choreography, yes. I didn’t know how Tommy made that sort of thing up. He lifted her, parading her around the rink, spinning her over his shoulder, setting her down.

He set up the throw. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood as he lifted her, and then he was throwing her. Her ankles crossed, she spun, and she landed. A little too far forward on the blade, enough that her toe pick was carving a pale streak, but she landed.

I was flooded with relief. They made their mournful way through another chunk of the routine. Then came the triple axel-double toe loop combination.

“Please God, let him do it,” I begged. 

He did. I didn’t know if I’d ever been this happy before. Teresa had barely made it the third revolution, but she’d just scraped by. They sped to opposite ends of the rink, and spun madly in sync. 

They’d done it. Then came the climactic moment, another throw. She’d spin in the air, Tommy would catch her, and then Teresa would do a death drop. They’d done this a million times, in a hundred different routines.

Teresa fell during the death drop.

She lay there, perfectly still, not even trying to get up. I met Tommy as soon as he came off the ice. The medics were seeing to Teresa. Routine, probably. 

“It’s okay,” I said hurriedly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He was shaking. “That’s it.”

“No, it’s not. You’re going to be fine. The score was excellent. You’ve got gold, and you made it to nationals.”

His voice trembled. “She broke her ankle, Newt. She won’t be skating for a long time. Not in time for nationals.”

My heart sank. He was so pale. This time, _he_ hugged _me_.

He invited me to skate with him a week later. I had a feeling it was a goodbye to the ice in his mind. We’d figured out that Teresa’s ankle had already been sprained from one of her practice sessions with Winston, and she’d never told Tommy. 

We slalomed solemnly around the rink. 

“There’s no way you can go on to nationals?” I asked softly.

“Not without a partner.”

I made a split second decision. It wasn’t even a decision, really. It was just instinct.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

He chuckled sadly. “You can’t.”

“Teach me. We have time.”

“Newt…”

“I’m serious.”

   

He stopped, facing me. “You’ve never been thrown. You haven’t been in competition. You don’t know if you get rink fright.”

“All reasons for you to quit arguing with me and help me learn.”

“Supposing we won? Then what?”

“Then we go on to world.”

He shook his head. “Newt, listen to yourself.”

“No, you listen to me. You’ve been working for this your whole life, and I’ve always been right there beside you. Teresa may have thrown fits and insisted on giving up sometimes, but not you. _You_ can’t give up. I won’t let you. Now knock it off and teach me.”

He looked at me for a minute or two. I didn’t back down. 

“I know you, Tommy. We might be good. Or if it’s such a big deal that it’s me, use me to practice while you try to find another partner.” That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

“Newt.”

“Tommy.”

He sighed. “Fine. If you get hurt I’m never going to forgive you.”

I scoffed. Of all the bloody nerve!

We spent the rest of the time he’d reserved practicing. Skating in sync with him was just natural, when he wasn’t preoccupied, and when you had music to skate to, you could align your timing with it, anyway. Lifts were a bit more difficult. We didn’t even try a throw.

“How hard can it be? It’s just like a jump, but you’re already in the air.”

He laughed, but grew serious again. “Teresa broke her ankle, Newt.”

I paused. “Good point.”

Tommy didn’t seem uncomfortable with me as a partner, really. In fact, I thought he was having a good time. We practiced the simple lift a few more times.

“You barely weigh any more than Teresa. Maybe the same, even,” he said, laughing.

“So?” I asked defensively. It was a good thing, wasn’t it? Why did he need to tease me?

“So you’re in good shape. And it means I won’t have to go to the gym more often.”

I steered my thoughts away from Tommy in the gym and we started messing around with one of his old routines, one he’d never competed with because Teresa hadn’t liked it. He browsed Spotify for a song for it while I read it through and memorized it. I’d always had a quick memory. 

“Here we go. Come on,” he said. “Like you like to say, improvise. That’s how I come up with all my moves.”

I smirked at him. “Fine.” We started in the middle of the rink. I heard the first line of the song. “Nope. Pick a different one.”

“Come on.”

“Nu-uh. No.”

He groaned and tried a different one. 

“Nope.”

The third try was a no, too. I snatched his phone and picked the song myself. He frowned thoughtfully for a second.

“Yeah…this could work if we extended it, or found a remix. One..Two..Three.”

We started. He improvised, I went with what I could remember from the routine page. If I didn’t remember, he’d remind me quickly or we’d make it up as we went. We built up the energy to a first climax, dropped it back down, carefully brought it back up. We flew across the ice, ripping beautiful lines and curves into it. I found myself working off of Tommy and forgetting the routine. Playing off each other’s cues in a careful, circling dance. 

It was so much more than skating together had ever been. We used to perform the same routine side by side, but this…this was a new creation, weaving a new story. Together. I was exhilarated. I was skating with Tommy. _With_ Tommy. It was _my_ hand he was holding, _me_ he was courting in this beautiful dance. I put my hands on his shoulders and he lifted me, slowly spun a few times, and set me down again, then pulled me along, holding my hand while he skated backward. 

I dropped to a lunge, still holding his hands. Improvising. He nodded to me, and somehow I knew exactly what he had planned. I grinned.

He cut sharply to the right, letting me go, and I started spinning, bringing myself to a stop slowly. Slowly standing as I ran out of momentum, bringing my limbs in, spinning faster than I ever had before. Then he was there again, holding my hand, one hand on my waist, and we were swaying back and forth in a perfect rhythm.

I tried to copy his fancy footwork. We’d work on that later. We spun in sync, went through combination jumps. It felt like magic.

The bridge drove me away from him, and I let myself make up the moves. I threw in a Salchow, finally understanding Tommy’s skating headspace. This was freedom. This was flying. 

I’d always looked at is as performing a technical, mathematically calculated series of instructions, or skated along the sidelines, watching other people weave magic with shining silver blades. Watching was different, vastly different than going through a routine. But tonight, I felt some sort of spark ignite.

Now I was seeking him out, lost, acting off the musical cues. He circled me at a distance, twisting and gracefully gesturing to either side, performing crossovers and switching directions freely, leaving me alone in the center of the rink, watching my world revolve around me. I decided what the hell and tried a Bielman spin, one of the things I knew but shouldn’t, having learned it to help Teresa. I held it as long as I could, and it worked in this routine. Anything worked. This was my story, my choice. 

Then he was at my side again, hand on my waist, skate against mine as we slowly revolved around each other. I put my arm around him, mirroring him. We panted. The song was over. I stared into his eyes, and he stared back, eyes wide and surprised. We were mere inches apart. Neither of us knew what to say, and neither of us moved. 

I heard a voice in my head telling me to back up, and I told it to buzz off. Tommy wasn’t backing up. 

“You’re amazing,” he blurted out. “I-I mean, that was incredible.” 

“You too. Maybe I don’t tell you that enough.”

He smiled at me for a soft moment, and then he was stepping away from me, skating briskly to the exit. I followed him, heart singing.

“We need to write everything we can down right now while it’s fresh in our minds. Then we can fiddle with until until it’s just right.” 

   

I thought it was just right already. He went on to say,

“That was...that was probably the rawest routine I’ve ever done. I-I mean that…in a good way. It was powerful, if you know what I mean. It spoke.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. It spoke alright. 

“You have to be careful with raw routines,” he said, speaking quickly as he scribbled down his part. “They have to be subtly refined. Judges don’t like reckless abandon unless it’s perfect, which is too hard sometimes. So you touch it up, film it a few times, make notes. Think like a judge. Emotion hits home, but you have to get it right. Too much alteration and it isn’t raw anymore. It’s a thin line.”

I smiled at my paper, writing quickly but not desperately. I didn’t think I’d forget that any time soon. He was buzzing with nervous excitement. It was adorable. I hadn’t seen him this happy in months. I was glad to have the old Tommy back. The Tommy who loved the ice. 

We met often, practicing technical stuff and more lifts. I practically glowed when I looked in the mirror when I got home. Tommy glowed, too, in his way. Instead of lighting up like a lightbulb, he had a soft aura like the sun peeking around a cloud. 

I dreamed about skating, I thought about skating at work, I read about skating. I watched Olympic skating videos. I wrote down the routines in my dreams as soon as I woke up. I wished like never before that you could record dreams.

Neither of us brought the routine up for about a week. Then I realized, nationals was getting closer every day that passed. I started doubting myself. We were making extraordinary progress, but would it be enough?

I mentioned this to him when he was over for dinner. He all but glared at me.

“You’re doing fine, you hear me?” 

“Yeah, but--”

“--No buts. We’re going to win. I know we are.”

I smiled. Positive Tommy was back. Breaking up with Teresa seemed to have made him happy again. I hadn’t expected it.

“Yeah,” I said, more confidently. “We should work on the routine.”

He nodded. “Look, if you have any ideas, please share, okay? You haven’t competed, but you watch, and you watch other people than just me. So you know stuff. More than I’ve thought you’ve known in the past. More than I think you know you know.”

So Tommy wrote up the complete routine, combining our individual notes, tidying it up a little. I remembered the thrill it had given me and couldn’t help smiling a little. Tommy handed the draft to me. It looked like a screenplay, more detailed than his previous routine drafts. 

He spoke about the atmosphere, the emotion conveyed, and my heart skipped a little. He’d used the phrase ‘longing, separated by silence.’ Every individual gesture was written in, not just the order of the jumps and spins.

“If all else fails, you could write for a living,” I said, smiling at him. “This is perfect.”

He grinned. “Thanks. Is there anything at all you want to add or take out?”

I frowned thoughtfully. “Well, you’re the expert. I’ll show you what I’ve accumulated.”

I grabbed the notebook I kept my dream routines in and handed it to him. He read through it, and then frowned at me.

“You’re written up three different routines. Nearly complete routines. Really good routines. When did you do this?”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “They were dreams,” I said, not specifying when I’d had them or who they were about.

He skimmed over them again. “These are combinations I haven’t seen before. Difficult, but possible. Do you mind if I play with them a little?”

“Course not!”

The next time we met, at the rink, he handed me another draft of the routine. The musical cues were written in now. I read it and smiled, internally blushing a little. He’d written some of the sensuality of one of the dream routines into it. I watched it in my mind. It was good. It was amazing, and I didn’t know if I could do it without giving myself away.

“What about this throw?” I asked, hesitantly. Had adding it been an accident? Was he thinking of Teresa performing it with him?

He smiled. “That’s your skill level when we win nationals.”

I smiled back. “Let’s do this.”

When we started this time, we held the written up routine and referred to it, without music. He was much closer to me at the very beginning, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. They slowly slipped down to my elbows, and then he was pulling backward away from me. I pivoted gracefully, flourishing my arms. Letting my skates swish in a basic but pretty pattern.

“I like that,” he said. 

We worked our way through it. It didn’t feel as raw as the first time, since we were adding and subtracted bits. This was the technical bit, working out timing and pacing. For now we substituted the equivalent jump for the throw. We hacked it to pieces and perfected eachone. His ice time was up before we glued it all back together. We could do that next time. 

We practiced off ice, too, lifts mostly. He’d toss me a couple feet so I could get used to it. We ran together in the early mornings. I was so deeply in love it hurt. All the close proximity was almost unbearable. The tension in our routine was real. 

I went by myself sometimes during public sessions, trying to see if there was anything I wanted to add to the routine. I was hesitant to add any more sensuous content. I wasn’t sure how Tommy would take that.

I decided to test the routine as a solo. I went to the music box and lined up my song. Practicing competitors could tie a bright scarf around their waists to let people know they were practicing. It was a well-known practice here.

So I tied one of the provided scarfs around my waist and tried it all out. People tended to stay out of my way. I ignored them, focusing right now on getting everything right. I leapt into the combination jumps, spun out my life story toward the end, and then I saw myself in Tommy’s arms at the end of it all. I panted, heaving breaths as I looked around. People looked impressed. One girl was staring at me like she’d seen God. That was a little disturbing. I made my way back to the music box to retrieve my phone and return the scarf. 

Teresa handed the phone to me. My eyes widened.

“So…” she said. “You starting competition?”

“Maybe,” I said vaguely.

“That was okay,” she said, meaning it as a compliment. 

“Thanks,” I said flatly. “Why are you here?”

“Well, I’m able to get around with this boot and I missed the ice. Thought I’d come hang out and watch the amateurs. Plus I heard there was a hot blond dude who came in every now and then to practice. Heard he was pretty awesome.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can’t have been me.”

“Uh, obviously it’s you.” She gave me a look. “How’s Tom?”

“Better now you’re not blaming him for it raining on your fake nails.”

“Look, maybe I was a little hard on him. I may be able to skate before nationals, and we still qualify. He’s blocked my number. Will you tell him I want to talk to him?”

“Nope,” I said. “You want to talk to him, you find him.”

She huffed and limped away. I did like Teresa, when she wasn’t being obstinate and rude. It was just jealousy that made me snap at her. And anger, sometimes, at worrying and hurting Tommy. 

When I went back to the rink that night to skate with Tommy, we went over the throw a couple times, just talking it through. It worried me a little. I wasn’t sure I’d be ready in time for nationals.

I did mention seeing Teresa to Tommy, who frowned, looking up from lacing his skates. I hadn’t put mine on yet, waiting for the outcome of this conversation. 

“Are you going to call her?” I asked.

“Why are you biting your lip? You only do that when you’re worried.”

“Huh?” 

“Why are you worried? Do you not want me to call her?”

   

“I…that’s your call, Tommy. She was your bloody girlfriend, after all. I just don’t want you to count on her being able to skate. She didn’t look too good.”

He stared at me, and then laughed. “I’m not. She’s not as smart as I thought if she thinks she could skate nationals on that foot. Without any practice.” 

“Okay…”

He stood up and stepped closer to me, putting his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head to look me in the eye. My breath caught. 

“You were right, you know. When you said that you’d been right here beside me since the start. I’ve been stupid not to see it. I neglected you when Teresa and I were together, especially this past year, but you’ve stuck with me. I appreciate that, and I know I have a lot to make up for. I _owe_ you nationals. And anyway,” he smiled, “I don’t think I’d want to go if you weren’t my partner.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He patted my arm and sat back down to lace his other skate. I hurried to put mine on.

“Plus you won’t try to back out of the competition because it’s that time of month.”

I blushed, but threw back, “How do you know I’m not a werewolf or something?”

He laughed, looking over at me and seeing how much of a hurry I was in.

“Hey, hey,” he said, stopping me. “Take your time.”

I looked at him questioningly. 

“If you mess your laces up you can get hurt.”

       

“I know,” I said. He nodded, still frowning worriedly. 

Once I’d laced them carefully under his watchful eye, we stood up. 

“I think I want to try that throw. Off ice.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

I realized something. “Tommy, you can’t chicken out of throwing me, okay? What happened to Teresa was not your fault. I don’t need you having some sort of post traumatic thing and ruining your career.”

That struck home. I saw it flicker across his face. 

“I…” he started.

“Look, I’m stronger than her. I may not have experience with throws, but I have better balance and I practice more often than she did. You’re not going to hurt me.”

He nodded, staring worriedly at the ground. He took a deep breath. “Okay…Let’s--” He paused, watching me carefully for a moment. Seeming satisfied, he said, “Let’s start with a single revolution at first.” 

I stumbled the first time, and before I could right myself he’d grabbed me around the waist and was holding me up. 

“Thanks, Tommy.” He nodded, looking worried. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “This is why we’re doing this off ice.”

He nodded. “Try again?”

I didn’t stumble as badly this time, and he didn’t need to grab me. Not that he had the first time, he’d just been worried, but it made me happy that he cared. The third and fourth tries improved, and the fifth I landed perfectly. Tommy beamed and hugged me.

“I knew you could do it,” he said enthusiastically. I grinned.

We went through the routine a couple times. We tried a few single revolution throws, and I made progress as the evening went on. 

I skated at the public session that weekend, triple axels especially, focusing on my landings. My little flock of girls was there. I started to think maybe I shouldn’t’ve come. They were distracting in that they tried not to draw attention to themselves. But I ran through the routine anyway. My solo version, which added a great deal more sensuality. 

I guessed this was just how I expressed what I really felt when I couldn’t with Tommy.

And then I saw Tommy in the music box. I skated over to him and cleared my throat.

“When did you get here?” It didn’t come off as casually as I’d hoped.

“About ten minutes ago. Why don’t you ever skate like that when we practice together?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so I went for a naive/honest reply, blushing. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think. I’ve just been messing with it.” 

“Well definitely mess with it some more if that’s what you’re thinking up. That was _charged._ Seriously, the ice was crackling.”

I blushed even redder.

“We still on for tonight?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “That brunette over there really liked the show. I’ll bet she’d give you her number.”

My heart sank. Tommy never tried to set me up. 

“Not my type,” I mumbled. 

“What? You don’t like brunettes?” He smirked and winked at me.

My eyes widened. “What? No. I like brunettes. I just don’t like…her, particularly.”

He frowned. “Are you demiromantic or what? You never go out with _anybody_.”

My throat stuck. Oh God. He was going to squeeze it out of me and everything would be ruined.

He waved it off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…I’ll let you get back to practicing. See you tonight, yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. See you then.”

He added my new aspect into the routine and we went through it a couple times. It just didn’t feel right, though. I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t know what was wrong, or how to fix it.

He sighed, stopping in the middle of it. “I’m sorry.”

   

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“What I said earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. I can tell it’s bothering you, and I just want you to know I wasn’t trying to…I don’t know, pry or judge. We’re good, right?”

I relaxed. “Yeah, we’re fine. It’s fine.”

He nodded. “Let’s take a bit of a break and try that throw off ice some more.” 

I agreed, letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. After several successful landings, he suggested we add a revolution. I nodded. I nearly fell when I landed, surprised by the strength with which he hurled me through the air. He grabbed me, holding me tight to his chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. 

“I’ve got you,” he said, directly into my ear.

   

“I’m okay.”

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting the momentum, I guess. How many revolutions?”

“Three. There was no way you were going to land that unprepared,” he said, as if to justify his grabbing me. It didn’t justify still holding me, though.

I shifted a little, not needing him pressed up behind me right now. He let go.

“Sorry. I, uh. I forget you’re as strong as you are,” he said. “I compensated for added force, but you did the same. Good to know we can do three revolutions pretty easily, though.”

I nodded. “It’s fine, Tommy. Thanks for catching me.”

“Try it again?”

“Yeah.”

I couldn’t do two revolutions. We couldn’t figure it out. Three seemed to be my lucky number, though.

He frowned at me. “How are you even doing that? You’re acting like it’s easy.”

I blushed a little. “I may have practiced triple axels a lot when you were getting ready for your last competition. So I could help you.”

He smiled, staring into my eyes. “You’re amazing. Really.”

Somehow, I didn’t think he meant my skating. 

“Look, let’s try switching up the song,” he said, changing the subject quickly. “It helps you memorize the routine.”

I nodded. He used that technique a lot. When he picked Come on Eileen, though, I wasn’t sure if I could do it. It was too upbeat.

“Competing is a lot like acting,” he said. “You play a role, regardless of the audience. You don’t rely on your cues, because the other actors might mess up. You have to learn the play, not just your lines and your blocking. This helps.”

Acting. Okay. I could do this. I’d done a few plays in high school.

We increased the tempo a bit, and I started to loosen up. I just let everything flow. Supressed need for Tommy, this new found, flying freedom. It wasn’t like that first night, not so unabashed, but it wasn’t stiff and technical like it had been earlier. Tommy smiled at me.

“There you go,” he said. “Let’s try another.”

Fire Escape blaring through the speakers, I started grinning. I couldn’t keep up the role. Neither could Tommy, though, and we ended up improvising quite a bit. It was fun. We went through several songs, just enjoying the time together, exploring each other’s ideas.

And then we were flying backwards, Tommy’s hands on my waist.

“I’m going to throw you. Ready?”

I nodded, lifting one foot in preparation. “Yep.”

“One..two..three.” He threw me, forcefully. I whirled around at lightning speed, the world blurry. I focused myself, landing neatly. 

He stared at me. “That was four revolutions.”

“What?” I asked, eyes widening. I’d been going for one. Maybe two. 

He was laughing incredulously. “I’ve only ever heard one that being done once, in the 2006 Olympics. If we can do that, we win.”

Nationals drew closer and closer and closer. I fretted. Was it wrong of me to skate with Tommy, knowing that I loved him? He had no idea. Was it worth it to try nationals? We were good, consistently successful with quadruple axel throws, but were we good enough? Then I had a dream.

I all but ran down the stairs, rushing to where Tommy was stretching.

“Death spiral,” I said.

“No.”

   

“What do you mean, no? It’s the perfect finale.”

“I mean no. It’s too dangerous.”

“And a quadruple axel throw isn’t?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t understand why you’re so paranoid. Teresa’s injury wasn’t your fault. I thought you understood that.”

“This isn’t about her!” he shouted. “It’s about _you_!”

I blinked. “What about me?”

   

“I’m not letting you get hurt. I-I can’t. It’s risky enough taking you to nationals. I’m not endangering you any more than I already am, okay?”

“I can take care of myself, you know. I’m not some bloody invalid.”

“You think I don’t know that? We’ve been practing for weeks. You’re brilliant, but it’s dangerous. You know that.”

“Of course I bloody know that! I’m only going to get hurt if you aren’t focused, and fretting constantly over me getting hurt is definitely not focusing. So stop it!”

“Don’t you understand?” he yelled. 

I frowned at him. He groaned and grabbed my face, pressing his lips to mine, hard. My eyes shot wide open, but then he was pulling away. He looked horrified and turned away, walking quickly away.

“Tommy!” I went after him. 

I stopped him at the foot of the stairs. He wouldn’t look at me. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” I asked. Please don’t let it be kissing me. 

He shook his head. “Do I need to spell it out? I let you get involved in this and took advantage of being close to you, holding you, and now…”

“Well I did the same thing,” I said softly, feeling that barrier inside me break. Tommy cared about me, too. He turned and looked at me. I smiled sadly. “Been feeling bloody rotten about it lately, too.”

“You…me…” he said, awe coloring his tone.

I chuckled. “Very eloquent, Tommy. But yes.” I let myself lay a hand on his cheek, caressing softly. 

He sighed, and then leaned forward to kiss me again. A proper kiss this time, gentle and meaningful. I pressed close to him, a soft sound escaping my throat when he wrapped his arms around my waist. We broke apart, leaning our foreheads together, our breath mixing between us. 

“The death spiral is still a no,” he said softly.

“That’s okay. I don’t think we’ll need it now.”

“Hm?”

“Well, I only thought of it because I was worried the routine wasn’t coming off right. But now, it ought to be fine.”

“Shall we test that?”

I smiled, kissing him again. “Absolutely.”

It felt every bit as powerful and exhilarating as the first time. Now that I didn’t have to hide how much he meant to me, everything was falling into place.

He kissed me passionately at the end of it, raking his hands through my hair. 

“You are so damn beautiful,” he growled. I melted under the possessiveness. He stared heatedly into my eyes for a minute, but tore himself away. “We should practice.”

“I’ve been waiting years, Tommy, I think we can wait another minute to practice.”

He pulled away from me, looking startled. “Years?”

I blushed. “Yeah.”

Realization dawned on his face. “That’s why you always stuck with me. Even when we quit going bowling or going to those book club meetings because I was wrapped up in Teresa.” I nodded. “That must’ve hurt you so bad,” he said, pulling me close again. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “We wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t met her.”

The routine improved drastically now that I wasn’t hesitating to let all the emotion show. It had been dammed up after that first night, when I realized just how much I’d exposed myself. But now that was okay.

We were a week from nationals, running through it one last time before we got on the plane. The music abruptly stopped a few moves before the throw. We coasted to a stop and looked over to the music box. Teresa. 

“Thomas,” she yelled. 

I glanced over at him, biting my lip. He reached over and took my hand, giving me a soft, reassuring smile. We skated over to her. She glared at us like she wanted to rip us both in two.

“What the hell is going on?”

“We’re practicing for nationals,” Tommy said simply, pulling me closer. 

“Nat--what?! You can’t skate with _him_ , Tom. That’s…” she broke off, fuming. “I’m your partner! You can’t just take off to nationals with a new partner.”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing. And you aren’t my partner anymore. In any way.” He kissed my cheek to emphasize. My heart fluttered. I was glad he cared about me, I was glad he was open with his affection, but Teresa wasn’t in a very good mood right now.

“Oh my God! _Tom_!”

He raised an eyebrow and grabbed his phone, typing quickly. “You’re intruding. We have a routine to practice. Which, if you haven’t noticed, is better than any we ever did.” He took my hand again. “C’mon, honey.” We went back to starting positions. Tommy squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t worry. Just show her what we can do without her.”

I smiled. Yeah.

We found that special something between us and let it pour forth, filling the whole rink as Gives You Hell blared through the speakers. I was his and he was mine and she had no part of it, and he was telling her that with this song. I landed the quadruple axel throw perfectly, reached a record number of revolutions in the Bielman spin, and pressed close to Tommy at the end of it all. 

The rink was silent. We looked up to see she’d left. 

“Bloody cow,” I muttered. 

He snickered, cuddling me. “C’mon. We’ve got a gold medal to go pick up.”

I’d never been this nervous in my entire life. I was almost trembling. I couldn’t let Tommy down. Where was he, anyway? And why did I have to wear this makeup? I bit my lip, bouncing up on my toe picks and back a few times. He came out of nowhere a second later, and I sighed in relief.

“There you are.”

“There _you_ are.” He inspected me more closely. He’d picked out and bought our outfits. I fidgeted, feeling exposed. “Hey,” he said gently. “It’s going to be fine.”

I looked at him helplessly. He stepped up and wrapped his arms around me, tight. He whispered,

“Shh, darling. It’s okay. We know this as well as we know each other, don’t we?” I nodded, closing my eyes tightly. “You once said that you couldn’t just randomly pick a skating partner, that you had to have someone you could work with. That you had chemistry with. And then you spat out this routine when you skated with me. We have unbelievable chemistry. We’re the dream team, okay? No one’s going to stop us.”

I nodded, some of the tightness in my chest easing. He let me go, slowly, making sure I was okay. 

Minho, a rare visitor to Tommy’s competitions, high-fived us both. 

“You’re going to be great.”

“Thanks,” I said, more confident with Tommy at my side.

“Thanks to you,” Tommy told me, hugging me from behind and nuzzling my cheek. “Little British vixen, you.”

I blushed. It was hard not to with his prominently muscled arms around me and that chest against my back

“The news is buzzing about you two,” Minho said, eyeing our PDA skeptically. My heart thumped funny. What did they say about us?

Tommy firmly shook his head at Minho. “Not another word. The news is always buzzing, usually up the wrong tree.”

“Don’t you mean barking?” I asked.

“Shut up. And quit worrying, okay? You’re amazing. There no way we won’t win. Don’t you dare let anything worm its way into your pretty little head other than You. Are. Amazing.”

I smiled, leaning back against him. “Okay.”

“Atta boy.”

“You’re fourth in the lineup,” Minho said, “Right after the siblings from Wisconsin.”

“Who are in no way better than us,” Tommy assured me. “I’ve done my research.”

He kept nuzzling me, warm breath tickling my cheek.

“Tommy, there are thousands of people watching us. And thousands more watching TV.”

“Mm-hm. I’m just showing you off.”

I blushed again. 

Our turn came. Tommy had pulled me to the practice rink and we’d gone through our routine once. He hadn’t let me watch the other pairs. He forbade me to look at the scoreboard until we’d finished. 

He kissed me in the secluded hallway between the two rinks. 

“It’s just you and me out there, Newt. No one else. And I love you. No matter what happens, you’re my little Newt.”

I nodded, smiling. “C’mon, then, Tommy.”

I ignored the crowds. I ignored the scoreboard. I gave the judges a nod and then I ignored them, too. I thought about the people watching us, with either no idea who I was or no idea why Tommy and I were apparently together, so soon after he broke up with Teresa. People who’d never seen me skate.

They had no idea what they were in for. We took our introductory/prepatory lap around the rink. I skated up into Tommy’s arms, shutting out the rest of the world.

Tommy caressed my shoulders and I lost myself in a moment of bliss. Then he pulled away. I pivoted, twirled around him. We stopped in perfect harmony, turning around again.

We started to widen the circle we skated, and then Tommy was apart from me, ghosting close at times but never to be held. I enticed him, seduced him, pleaded wordlessly. 

The energy began to mount as we built up speed, going through the synchronized combination jumps, finally rejoining one another in swift, complicated footwork, holding hands, twirling to face the other direction, changing hands. Staring into each other’s eyes, daring to look but knowing it would never last. Another synchronized jump, a feat of strength and grace only we could achieve. 

I gave everything I had to the intricate dance, wind stinging my eyes, which were locked on Tommy. He pulled away from me again, until only the tips of our fingers touched. And then he was gone. 

We harmonized, call and response movements woven in perfect balance with each other and the music, our tempo increasing with the song. We spun, we jumped, we cruised past each other tantalizingly close. We flew a perfect spread-eagled figure eight, perfectly timed to twirl past each other in the middle only a split second away from crashing.

Then he was lifting me, twirling me around in our own special waltz. I was in another world, hardly knowing what I did as we went through the lift sequence. Then I was back on the ice and he was dipping me backward, supporting me with one strong arm and pulling me back up only to drop me into the lunge. Surging away from me, sending me in mad spin of crazed need from which I rose victorious, spinning a million miles an hour and exiting into Tommy’s arms. I faltered for a half second, a little dizzy. His grip tightened on my hand and he paled.

“Newt,” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” I replied, picking up speed again. He held my hand tightly, and I squeezed back. “I’m ready.”

He picked me up, skates making the most powerful ripping sound I’d ever heard. Our movements softened for those few moments. He set me down gently, we worked up more speed, and then I was sailing through the air, curled tightly into myself as I spun. Landing on one precarious foot to swoosh a tight half-circle before Tommy was circling me at arm’s length while I pivoted, reaching for him. He moved in powerful crossovers, propelling him faster and faster until he was forced by the laws of physics to separate from me and extend his circle, ever-widening, ever faster. 

I eased to a stop as the music slowed, Tommy finally close again, mine. We revolved around each other, only an inch between us, leaning and twisting to complicate things. 

Then we parted the slightest fraction, arms reaching in tandem as we stared into each other’s eyes with burning intensity. 

The spell broke as the cheers resounded. Flowers were hurled onto the ice. I panted for air, grinning madly at Tommy after we’d bowed our thanks. 

He dropped to a lunge, picking up a bouquet of roses, then turned to slide backwards, handing me the roses while still lunging, as if on one knee. I blushed. We gripped each other’s hands like we might never get a chance to again, leaving the rink in a daze. 

Minho was grinning like a fool. “That was awesome!” 

“I know,” Tommy said, squeezing my hand again, smiling at me.

We moved to get a good view of the scoreboard. I crossed the fingers of both hands, biting my lip. Tommy stood behind me, holding my shoulders tight. I could hear a TV announcer raging into his microphone about the throw, the energy. It was like nothing he’d ever seen.

“They’ve taken a pop song and made it the greatest love story ever told. They’ve ripped this sport apart at the seams and rewritten it. They’ve defied time and space today. I don’t think that could’ve been any more spectacular if they’d thrown in an Iron Lotus.” I laughed at the reference, realizing I was a little blond chap and Tommy was a powerful brunet. “How will the judges respond? They’re taking an unusually long time to decide the score. And no wonder. How do you judge that? The tension right now is palpable. People are holding their breaths. They’ve decided…the score is up! Salisbury and Danvers have taken the lead! This a greater margin than Danvers and Agnes ever had. Indeed, this must be a crushing blow for Agnes…”

I tuned out as Tommy yelled, “Yes!” and high-fived me, hard. The next thing I knew he was kissing me, deeply. My arms came up around his neck. It was an incredible kiss. Now I knew what Princess Mia was talking about when she explained the ‘foot pop.’ 

I laughed breathlessly when he picked me up and spun me around. We were in the lead, by a lot. 

We watched the final team compete. They gave it everything they had, and it was beautiful. Somehow I just _knew_ , though. 

And then the final score came up and I was right. We’d won. I’d thought Tommy had been ecstatic before. Now he threw me into a triple axel just out of sheer exuberance. I laughed breathlessly, returning to his arms. 

A moment later I realized the extent of what had happened.

“We’re going to world!” I shrieked.

When we finally calmed down we realized there was a line of coaches waiting to talk to us. 

“I’ll handle it,” Tommy said, smiling at me. “You go ahead and change.”

I nodded and gave him a quick kiss. “See you later.”

“You too, champ.”

I grinned.

Teresa cornered me in the hallway, looking sheepish. I stared at her for a second, daring her to be the first one to talk.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The way I acted before was uncalled for. I was a little shocked. It’s clear he cares more about you than he ever did for me, and I just want him to be happy. So, if you can, please forgive me.” 

I took her proffered hand with a smile. “I’m in a charitable mood right now.”

“That routine was incredible. I had no idea you had it in you.”

I laughed. “Thanks. If you have any pointers, please share.”

She smiled. “I think you’ve got it covered.”

She took my place as the coach friend, though, and was just as bossy as I had been. She pushed Tommy to the limit, making me work to keep up with him. 

We often watched the video of our nationals routine. It was just as breathtaking to watch as it was to live.

But now we were going on to world, and were polishing one of my dream routines. We shuffled through a list of possible songs while we stretched. Nothing worked.

“Tom’s always been terrible at picking songs,” Teresa said. 

“I’m not terrible at it, I’m just not good at it,” he replied sulkily.

“Look, you used a Chainsmokers song at nationals. You have a couple options. You go sad pop song, following your own lead, or you venture elsewhere. This routine is still on the drawing board. You can tailor it to your song, like you did before. You can always go classical,” she said. “Here, I’ve got something on my phone.”

Unlike normal people, who got a Spotify Premium account, she downloaded stuff illegally. She scrolled through her music.

“Here.”

It was sad, and pretty, but the energy didn’t build up at all. It could work, maybe, but we needed something to work up to. I wracked my brains for more ideas. Then Teresa’s autoplay went on to the next song.

“That one,” I said quickly. “That one that one that one. Plug it into the box.”

I glided out to the middle of the rink. Tommy joined me. 

“I guess you’re the one who arranges all our music,” he said, smirking.

“Shut up and skate.”

He sang, “‘He said, ‘Oh, hoo, shut up and skate with me.’’”

“You’re such a bloody dork,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“But you love me.”

I grinned as the song started, swooping into a low pivot. And grinned some more as we started weaving our new story. We started painfully slowly, almost in slow motion, but the energy built until we were racing around the rink. We passed Teresa, who was filming us, narrating what we did. That would be helpful, I thought. 

He scooped me up and threw me. Another quadruple axel into a spin. Twizzles, slaloms, synchronized waltz jumps, combinations. A daring, single-armed lift we'd worked on for weeks but decided to exclude from the nationals routine.

We stopped trying to fight the grins.

   

When it ended, Teresa was nodding in approval. “That was great. But you know what it needs?”

   

I smirked. “A twist throw and a death spiral.”

   

“Exactly.”

We turned on Tommy, who shook his head. “No death spirals. We need a proper coach to learn that, and I’m not risking cutting your head off.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to cut my head off. This isn’t Blades of Glory. And if we need a coach, we can get one all too easily. All the good ones are practically begging us to hire them, and to avoid all that nonsense, I’ll bet Mary could teach us. She’s still here for the Saturday morning classes.”

So we found the woman who’d taught us to skate in the first place, and she all too eagerly agreed to help us out. We’d always been good friends with her.

She had a new pair under her wing, Brenda and Jorge. As jealous as it made me, Brenda practiced with Tommy and I practiced with Jorge for a while. Mary thought it wisest to pair us with experienced skaters before we tried it on our own. 

I could tell Jorge was a little weirded out, but as I started to progress, he seemed to relax a little. I didn’t care anyway. As long as he didn’t let go of me.

When the time came for us to do it together, Tommy’s toe pick slipped. He let me go after swinging me to the left as hard as he could, and flung his upper body on top of me to keep from hitting me with the blade. I was terrified for his ankle, he was terrified that the blade had hit me or that he’d crushed me to death. 

We moved to clearer ice and tried again. Not quite perfect, but we did it. 

With a lot of practice, we were able to do it well consistently. We worked it into the routine. We worked dating into our schedule. I was floating on air, all the time. Teresa and Tommy became better friends than they ever had while they were together. I didn’t feel jealous at all anymore. We all three knew things were the best they could be just the way they were.

The world championship. I was more excited than nervous. We could do this. Even if we didn’t win, we’d made it here. That was good enough for me. Tommy was grinning at me like a fool. I laughed at him.

We were the first competetors. We skated in tandem around the rink as an introduction.

“First in this final, representing the United States, Thomas Danvers and Newton Salisbury,” the announcer said.

We waved in sync, in a graceful, complicated way we’d made up, and I said to Tommy through my stage smile, “I hate it when people call me that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

We took our starting positions and entered the routine dramatically, almost in slow motion. Our lifts were spectacular, the footwork dazzling. Two quadruple axel throws, a synchronized triple axel double toe loop double toe loop combination. His and Teresa’s signature throw and the death drop. We pressed together in a camel spin. I panted for air, loving the burn in my muscles. 

He led me effortlessly into our finale, the death spiral. I couldn’t help smiling. It was flawless and such breathtaking fun.

   

We ended in a dramatic pose. I beamed exhaustedly at Tommy. We’d done it, perfectly.

“Thomas Danvers and Newton Salisbury, representing the United States.”

We listened in on the announcers talking about my unbelievable debut and wow, what a skater I was proving to be! With such a late start, relatively speaking, in competition and to be where I was, a true success story.

I knew. The number of interviews I’d gone through was ridiculous. People were talking about a movie. I was refusing. I didn’t want fame. I just wanted Tommy.

When I saw our score I couldn’t believe it. We couldn’t’ve been that good. Tommy hugged me so hard I worried he’d break a rib.

As time went on and the scoreboard filled up, our position never changed. 

   

Second place was only a numeral below ours, but we won. We won world. I was ecstatic, and so was Tommy.

He kissed me so hard I was sure it would bruise, and then held me tight against his chest. 

“I love you.”

I grinned. “I love you, too.”

Maybe we’d compete next year, hold our title for years to come. Maybe we’d fade out of the competetive world, but one thing was certain.

We were forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't even know. Hope you liked it.


End file.
